


May Your Days Bee Merry And Bright

by MittenWraith



Series: Tumblr Anonymous [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Academic Castiel, Alternate Universe - Human, Bees, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Human Castiel, Humor, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Tattoos, Tumblr, come on this is Project Beyonce there's gonna be at least one weird tag, ongoing gratuitous abuse of the entire field of semiotics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Castiel learns there's a lot more to living with Dean Winchester than he ever expected. Take Christmas, for example. With some bees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Your Days Bee Merry And Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a random idea for a cutesy Christmas story a few days ago, and I eventually had to just cut myself off. I swear I could write in this 'verse forever if you let me. Enjoy some Christmas fluff. ~~(not even edited, because I am a terrible person, or because I am a wonderful person who wanted to post this on Christmas, however you choose to see it)~~

It's only been six weeks since Cas moved in with Dean, and just under two months since they’d accidentally-on-purpose broken their long-standing anonymous Tumblr relationship to meet face to face. They’ve barely had time to settle into this new reality when the holiday season strikes.

Thanksgiving week passes in a blur of activity for Sam, Cas, and Dean. The day itself is the first happy holiday Cas could remember spending in years. Or maybe ever. It isn’t just the fact that he’s been deliriously happy since moving in with Dean, but the entire atmosphere of their house. _Their house_.

Dean spends most of the day in the kitchen while a steady stream of friends and family files through, partaking of the seemingly endless variety of foods and drinks Dean replenishes on the regular. Some only pop in for a quick hello on their way to other family gatherings, but at least a dozen people have settled in to spend the day eating, laughing, and just enjoying being together. It isn’t like any formal and stuffy Thanksgiving dinner Cas ever remembered, and he loves it.

The chaos in the Winchester household doesn’t taper off when the food is gone. As soon as the table is cleared, Dean starts pulling boxes filled with Christmas decorations down from the attic. By the time the last of their Thanksgiving guests leaves with plates of leftovers and bleary good night hugs, their living room has been transformed into a Christmas wonderland.

Cas had spent most of the evening cleaning up and parceling out the remaining food into individual carry-home portions for all of their guests. When he finally steps out of the kitchen, he blinks at the fully-decorated Christmas tree and the array of lights and garlands festooned around doorways, windows, and the fireplace mantle. Dean catches him staring and grins, making his way to Cas’s side, dodging between the now empty boxes strewn about the room.

“Neat trick, huh?” Dean asks, sliding his arm around Cas’s shoulders and proudly admiring the festive decor.

“How… I was only in the kitchen for an hour!” Cas says, at a loss for words to accurately convey his shock.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Dean replies, shrugging.

Cas turns to face Dean, putting himself between Dean and the spectacle that is their living room. He’s still in shock, but he’s also just a wee bit appalled. “You made our guests help you decorate for Christmas?”

Dean just grins at him, and nods. “It’s a family tradition. Well, it is now, since Dad died. When Bobby was still staying with us, it was the first day in about a month that Sam and I had a chance to sit down together and chill, so I decided to do a proper Thanksgiving dinner. Invited everyone we hadn’t seen in a while, and folks who didn’t really have much family to run home to for the holiday. Eventually someone brought up the subject of Christmas, and what we all planned to do.”

Cas listens patiently. All of his irritation with Dean for imposing on their guests fades away as Dean’s eyes drift down and his voice breaks on the last words. Cas doesn’t interrupt, but wraps his arms around Dean’s waist and pulls him closer, giving him the comfort he seems to need in order to go on.

Dean sighs, and looks back up, holding Cas just a little bit tighter. “We hadn’t really done Christmas since Mom died,” he finally says, and then laughs. “The look on Ellen’s face when we told her that, you’d think Sam and I’d told her we’d hunted down Santa and slaughtered all his reindeer. Twenty minutes later, we were all up in the attic digging out Mom’s old decorations. An hour after that…” Dean trails off, waving a hand around the room.

Cas can’t help but smile at that. “They do this every year for you? Dean, you have some wonderful friends.”

Dean looks back at Cas and a funny smile comes over his face. “They’re your friends now, too, Cas. Don’t you forget it.”

“I don’t think Ellen will let me forget it,” he replies. She’d been wary of Dean’s quickly developing relationship with him at the start, but warmed up to Cas as soon as she saw how happy Dean’s been for the last couple of months. “She cornered me in the kitchen before she left tonight and gave me the if-you-dare-to-hurt-Dean-they’ll-never-find-the-body talk. She can be terrifying when she wants to.”

Dean stares at him in awe for a second or two, blinks, and then nearly headbutts Cas in a fit of laughter. “You know, she never did that with anyone else I’ve ever dated, so I guess you should feel special,” Dean says when he can finally breathe again.

“Special,” Cas says skeptically, suppressing a smile. “I do feel special to be included in all of this.”

Dean leans in and gives him a kiss, lingering for a minute because he just can’t help himself. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against Cas’s again, and says, “Don’t let them fool you. They say the decorating’s become a tradition, but really it’s just their excuse to feel a little less guilty for trying to eat me out of house and home every November.”

While they gather up all the empty storage bins and boxes, Cas stops to admire the tree up close. The ornaments are old, some of them antique glass, while others were clearly made by Dean when he was a child; a clothespin reindeer, a tiny handprint with Dean’s name scrawled across it, and various other baubles cobbled together from glue and what appears to be macaroni. Dean comes up behind him, interrupting his admiration with two strong arms around his waist, and rests his chin on Cas’s shoulder.

“If you’ve got anything you want to add, feel free. You should have something up there, too.” Dean points to one of the macaroni balls, spray painted a sparkly silver. “Even Sam’s got one he made.”

“Hmmm,” Cas replies, frowning. “I never made a Christmas ornament before. My parents put up a plastic tree with the same decorations it had been displayed with in the store where they bought it. I think they just covered it with a tarp, rolled the whole thing into a closet, and pulled it back out every year. They weren’t exactly the festive type. And they weren’t exactly fond of originality.”

“Well, we can change that,” Dean replies softly, kissing Cas’s jaw. “I got a whole new box of macaroni out in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got some glue around here somewhere.”

Cas can’t help but laugh, turning to kiss Dean properly again. “Maybe tomorrow. I think I might have a few ideas of my own, though.”

“Whatever you want, Cas, but you should be up there,” Dean replies, nodding his head toward the tree.

“At least you didn’t ask me to sit on top,” Cas says. “When it got out I was named for an angel, half the kids in my third grade class spent a week asking me if my family stuck me on top of the Christmas tree every year.”

Dean grins and points up at the glittering star atop the tree. “We already got that covered, so you lucked out. Plus, I can think of better things for you to spend your time on top of.” He waggles his eyebrows lasciviously, and Cas snorts and shakes his head.

When the last of the boxes are packed away, they stand together in front of the tree again. Dean’s about to unplug the lights for the night when Cas stops him.

“I think we should take a picture,” he says, pulling out his phone. He snaps one shot of the tree and fireplace mantel together, and then maneuvers Dean to sit at the base of the tree before plopping down next to him. “And one of the two of us together.”

Dean makes a goofy face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes in the first shot. Cas rolls his eyes and pushes against Dean’s arm to scold him, but then extracts a promise that Dean will behave himself, and the second picture turns out perfect. They’re almost looking at each other, as if daring the other to laugh, while the warm glow of the lights twinkles off the ornaments behind them and sparkles in their eyes. They both sit staring at the picture until the screen times out and fades to black. Dean clears his throat, and suddenly reaches down to untie his shoes.

“We should probably take a picture for the blog, too,” he says in explanation. “Unless…” He glances up at Cas, who’s smiling back at him.

“No, I want to,” Cas replies, kicking off his own shoes and socks.

It’s become their thing, at least as far as selfies go. They both know it’s beyond ridiculous at this point, because anyone with half a mind to wouldn’t have much trouble figuring out who they are in real life from everything they post on Cas’s Human_Bee-ing blog. They’ve always stopped short of using their real names or photographs of their faces, settling instead for using the nicknames they gave each other when they first started talking anonymously, and posting a series of ridiculous pictures of their feet.

“How’s this,” Dean says, leaning back on his hands, with his legs stretched out in front of him and his feet resting on the red velvet skirt beneath the tree.

Cas studies the composition as he makes himself comfortable on the floor and lines his feet up beside Dean’s. As usual, Dean captures one of Cas’s feet between his own. It had surprised Cas the first time he did it, nearly knocking him over, but now he expects it and just leans in closer to Dean.

“It seems a little depressing without any presents under the tree,” he says, with a little frown.

Dean nudges his shoulder against Cas to get his attention. “One thing at a time, babe. We can call this the before shot. Build suspense.”

“Right, as if people are hanging on to the edges of their seats over us.” Cas frames the shot anyway, and takes the picture.

“You putting that up now?” Dean asks.

Cas nods absently while he composes a short post with the photo, and captions it, “ _Little did I know the #Fiance Anon does all his Christmas decorating before Thanksgiving’s even over. We have a lot to be thankful for this year, including all of you_.” He shuts his phone off, and focuses all his attention on Dean.

“So, what’s next on your Christmas agenda, hmm? Cards? Gifts?” Cas asks, leaning in to kiss Dean, before pulling back and staring wide-eyed at him. “No, don’t tell me. Baking, right?”

Dean grins, and hugs Cas close. “None of the above,” he replies quietly. “This is about all the Christmas I can stand.”

Cas furrows his brow in confusion, but doesn’t move. Dean’s running one hand up and down his back, and it’s almost hypnotic how good it feels. “That doesn’t seem very like you. I assumed you’d enjoy acting out the part of Santa. Perhaps a reluctant and grumpy Santa, but I’ve seen your soft gooey center. Somewhere in there,” Cas gently pokes at Dean’s belly, “lurks the heart of a jolly old elf.”

Dean squrims at the poking, trying not to laugh. “Quit it. ‘M not jolly.”

“Whatever you say, Dean.” Cas lays off the poking, and instead wraps his arms around Dean’s middle, throwing them off balance.

“Fine,” Dean huffs, as he rights himself and then brings both of them to their feet. “You got me. Eventually I’ll get around to Christmas shopping, and the usual suspects will all be around on Christmas day, but we don’t do anything fancy. Everyone brings something, and most of those somethings turn out to be dessert. We’re pretty laid back about it.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Cas replies. “I’ve spent the last six Christmases alone, ever since I left home for college, and even before that the only thing my family did together was attend mass.”

Dean stares at Cas, indignant. “Shit, even when my Dad stopped caring about the holidays, Sam and I always made each other presents. At least we did until that one year he tried to make me a pie. I didn’t know it was possible to make a pie that awful, but he succeeded. We stuck to store-bought crap after that, until I found Mom’s old recipes.”

“What kind of pie was it?” Cas asks, curiosity piqued, as Dean leans over to switch off the Christmas lights.

“I don’t even know,” he replies, as a haunted look crosses his face. “It was that bad.”

With that, they head up to bed, all ready to enjoy the rest of their long weekend alone. Since Cas moved in, Sam’s been spending more and more time at Jessica’s apartment. He'd told Dean he wanted to give them some space while they adjusted to living together. He’d called it their _honeymoon period_ , and Dean had flipped him off, but he’s grateful to his brother nonetheless. Dean also suspects that Sam doesn’t really mind spending most nights with his girlfriend, and he doesn’t think it’ll be long before Sam moves out entirely. Dean can’t say he blames his brother one bit.

One major benefit to having the house to themselves is knowing they won’t be interrupted, especially when they both have a day off work. Those days consist of lazy morning sex, followed by lazy morning showers, and lazy rest-of-the-day lounging around in attire that Sam would disapprove of.

When they eventually come down to the kitchen the next morning to hunt down coffee and breakfast, they’re happily wearing their respective favorite robes and not much else. Cas boots up the laptop out of habit while Dean bustles around making breakfast.

He’s not really paying attention to what he’s doing, but navigates over to his tumblr page on autopilot, clicking the inbox without even noticing the number of new messages. Before his messages load, he goes back to his dashboard, scrolling mindlessly and stopping only occasionally to zone out on a particularly interesting gif. His eyes scan over the text of one post three times until he startles out of his reverie when Dean shoves a mug of coffee and a plate of French toast under his nose. He pushes his laptop aside in favor of sustenance.

“So what’s new on the internet,” Dean says, pointing at the laptop with his fork, smirking a little because he _knows_ what his boyfriend’s going to say. He knows Cas doesn’t really start processing things until he’s had his coffee.

“I have no idea, Dean.”

Dean’s smirk widens into a grin, and he shovels in another huge bite of toast.

After breakfast and a second cup of coffee, they retire to the living room and Dean debates whether or not to switch all the Christmas lights back on.

“There’s no point, Dean. It’s broad daylight. Save them for when we can actually appreciate them.”

Dean frowns a little, but shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re disappointed,” Cas says, settling on the couch with his computer.

“I’ll live,” Dean replies, sitting down with his thigh pressed against Cas’s. “Now show me our post.”

That’s become another tradition for them; reading the comments the morning after they post something cute, and the pictures of their feet are at the top of the “cute” list, according to Cas. Cas hasn’t bothered telling Dean how many new followers he’s gotten since they’d begun openly posting about their relationship, nor that the largest influx of new followers show up every time they post one of their cute foot selfies. Dean hadn’t cared when they first discussed how they wanted to handle the public side of their personal lives, and has repeatedly told Cas he wouldn’t even be upset if someone uncovered their real identities. They’re still careful, though, never posting anything too intimate, just in case they’re ever outed as the Fiance Anon and his Bumblebee. Only once has Dean ever complained about having given Cas the nickname in such a public forum, because he doesn’t like the idea that _other people_ think of Cas as Bumblebee. That’s _Dean’s_ name for him, dammit.

Cas finds their post, and spends a moment feeling all warm and fuzzy inside when the picture loads on his screen. He catches Dean out of the corner of his eye, smiling beside him. It makes him want to cuddle down into Dean’s side, so he does, shifting the computer so it rests atop both their laps.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Cas says, and scrolls down to read the notes.

There’s quite a few, even more than he expected on a holiday. He chalks it up to the sorts of over-enthusiastic people who began posting Christmas things the day after Halloween, until he starts reading some of the comments. They run the gamut from _awww how adorable_ and _I love you guys_ to general holiday wishes. The most common comment, however, is on the lack of presents beneath the tree.

When Cas moves over to his inbox, they discover message after message filled with suggestions on what they should get each other for Christmas. They range from the sublime to the ridiculous, to the truly disgusting.

“Oh, god, Cas,” Dean says, reeling back at one particularly disturbing suggestion. “Looks like your stalker’s back.”

Cas nods sadly while he reports the message to tumblr staff and then deletes and blocks the user yet again. It’s messages like that that make them cling to their anonymity.

“Jesus, do any of these people have lives?” Dean asks, once the offending message has been dealt with. “I mean, it was a holiday, and here they are giving us advice.”

“It’s only a holiday in this country, Dean. To the rest of the world Thanksgiving is just another Thursday.”

“Still, this is a lot more feedback than we usually get.”

“Hmm,” Cas muses, and toggles back to the original post. “I believe this is Gabriel’s doing. He reblogged it last night asking all his followers to send us gift ideas.”

“What?” Dean says, scooting up so suddenly he almost knocks the laptop to the floor. “Is he trying to to get us found out? I thought the asshat promised not to reblog our stuff! He’s got too many followers. If one of them guesses you’re related...”

Castiel resettles the computer on his lap and pats Dean’s leg reassuringly. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, Dean. I’m frankly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. I thought it didn’t bother you one way or the other, anyway.”

Dean relaxes under Cas’s ministrations, and takes a deep breath as he settles back against his side. “No, it doesn’t really bother me. Everyone we care about already knows, and everyone else can just go fuck themselves if they have a problem with us.”

“Even the creepy stalker guy?” Cas asks, suddenly very serious.

“You know, if we weren’t trying to stay anonymous, he might lose interest.”

“Or he might find a way to harass us in real life,” Cas adds.

Dean just shrugs. “If he does, then we’d at least have a real person to fight back against, instead of an angry grey dot. Really, Cas, I’m okay with it, as long as you are.”

Cas hums contentedly and composes a new post, calling it Bumblebee’s Christmas List. He and Dean spend the next hour compiling the extensive array of suggestions into a long and rambling post, occasionally stopping to reply to someone who sent a message they could answer privately. At least half of the suggestions are actually hilarious. An untold number of people sent links to bee-themed items, all of which Cas dutifully checks out before including them in the post. A personal favorite is a teapot shaped like a bee, which Dean won’t stop referring to as the “beepot.” Cas eventually caves, and tells Dean that yes, he wouldn’t mind getting the beepot for Christmas.

They go on to offer their critique on almost every gift idea. The number of disgustingly cutesy couples items is off the charts, including matching t-shirts, matching tattoos, and matching jewelry. The few who suggest they actually get proper engagement rings are gently reminded that they’ve only been together a few months, and they’re in no rush.

“Really, though, Cas,” Dean asks. “What _do_ you want for Christmas?”

Cas is about to crack a joke about the vibrating butt plug shaped like a beehive someone had sent a link to, but stops himself, because Dean is being serious. He’s not ignoring Dean’s question, he’s just finishing up the post. Once it’s posted, he closes the laptop and sets it on the coffee table, and then climbs into Dean’s lap, straddling his thighs and taking Dean’s face between his hands.

He looks right into Dean’s eyes, and says, “I already have everything I ever wanted, Dean.”

Dean’s brain sort of sputters out while Cas gently slides his thumbs across his cheeks. He feels pretty much the same way, but gazing up at Cas while his heart’s trying to beat its way up his throat, the only reply that makes any sense is to surge up and tackle Cas to the couch. He’s pretty sure Cas understands his meaning.

 

It doesn’t take long for Cas to get into the spirit of the Christmas decorations. He takes Dean’s suggestion that he make some of his own ornaments very seriously, and runs to the craft store on his way to work the following Monday. He spends half the day making tiny fuzzy bees out of pipe cleaners and plastic googly eyes before some of his students notice what he's doing and ask if he needs any help. By the end of the day, he has hundreds of the ridiculous little things, and he and Dean spend the evening stringing them into a garland and threading them throughout the tree.

In the weeks since then, he’s taken to working more from home than in the cramped office he shares with three other TA’s at the university. There’s fewer distractions, and he’s able to spread out all his research without worrying that someone will come along and disrupt his work. By the Thursday before Christmas break, he’s putting the final details on his first draft, weeks ahead of his self-imposed schedule.

With the days getting shorter, Cas has begun migrating to the living room in the late afternoon and switching on all the Christmas lights. For the third day in a row, Dean comes home from the garage to find Cas basking in their festive glow.

“What happened to saving the light show for when it’s practical?” Dean grins at Cas as he kicks off his boots and hangs up his jacket.

“It’s already getting dark out, Dean. It is practical.”

“If you say so,” Dean replies. It’s still at least a few minutes before sunset, but it’s been gloomy and overcast all afternoon. Dean’s not about to argue about it in any case. He strolls into the living room and drops their mail onto the coffee table.

Cas saves his thesis and packs away the rest of his notes when Dean joins him on the couch. “I am officially done for the weekend,” he announces.

That brings Dean up short. “What, you taking a break from all the writing?”

Cas turns and beams at Dean. “I finished.”

“Finished, what? All of it? Really?”

“The first draft,” Cas replies. “It still needs editing and then Professor Moseley’s review before I can submit it to Professor Cain. But yes, it is essentially done.”

“Wow, Cas, that’s awesome. I thought you had class tomorrow, though?”

“Professor Cain gave me the day off when I told him how close I was to finishing. I don’t have class again until after the new year.”

Dean blinks at him a few times, and then grins, pulling out his phone. “This calls for a celebration.”

He texts Jo and tells her he won’t be in tomorrow, and then shuts his phone off before she can reply. She’d either pester him for details, or else tease him mercilessly for wanting to spend the day with his boyfriend, and he’s in too good a mood to waste it on text message banter. He tosses the phone on the coffee table, and practically pulls Cas into his lap for a hug.

“Okay, I’m all yours until Monday.” He gives Cas a proper congratulatory kiss, and when they stop to breathe, he asks, “How would you like to spend the weekend?”

Cas shoots him a pants-tighteningly predatory grin, and then gives him an answer he wasn’t expecting at all. “I think I’d like to go Christmas shopping.”

Dean’s jaw drops, and he stutters out, “What, you mean right now?” He'd thought the evening had been progressing in a slightly different direction.

Cas just laughs, low and dark. “No, Dean, not right now. But tomorrow. I still haven’t decided what to get for you, and we’re running out of time.”

Dean glances over at the pile of presents under the tree. He knows for a fact that at least two of them are marked _To Dean, Love Cas_. He checked. He didn’t peek or anything, he just happened to notice them when he was trying to hide the wrapped “World’s Hottest Semiotician” mug, a t-shirt that says “I  <3 literal interpretation,” where the heart is an anatomical diagram of a human heart, and the stupid beepot under the pile of gifts they’d picked out for their friends together.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything, Cas,” Dean says, dropping his voice and filling it with innuendo. “But if you insist, I’ve got a couple of suggestions.”

“I’d be willing to look over your list,” Cas replies. “I’ll take your suggestions under advisement.”

Dean’s stomach chooses that moment to make itself heard, and Cas laughs.

“I suppose dinner is the first item on your list?”

Dean frowns down at his stomach, and then up at Cas. “I guess so.”

“I’ve honestly never heard you express such disappointment over the prospect of eating,” Cas replies, leaning in for a kiss before sliding off Dean’s lap and heading for the kitchen.

“What can we make in five minutes or less?” Dean calls after him.

While Cas starts pulling out bread and turkey to make sandwiches, Dean gathers up the discarded mail and follows him into the kitchen. He pulls out all the flyers and junk mail and tosses them into the trash, which leaves him with a Christmas card from Ellen and a large bulky envelope for Cas. There’s no return address, which piques his curiosity.

“Hey, Cas,” he says. “Are you expecting anything?”

Without turning around, Cas answers, “I’m expecting a lot of things, Dean. Now come make your sandwich so we can take care of that list.”

Dean can’t help but grin at that response. He slides up behind Cas, and holds the package up in front of his face. Cas drops the knife he’d been using to slice a tomato and takes the package from Dean, turning it over in his hands before squinting curiously at Dean.

“What’s this?” he asks, opening it without waiting for an answer Dean doesn’t have anyway.

Inside the outer wrapping is a second envelope, slightly smaller, with a note attached. “It’s from Gabriel.”

Dean groans. He’s grown to like his boyfriend’s brother, but he’s also learned to be wary of the man’s sense of humor, especially since he’d instigated the campaign on their blog post to solicit Christmas present ideas. The initial flood of messages had mostly tapered off after a few days, but it had still been more attention than either of them had ever wanted. Cas politely asked Gabriel not to give them any more publicity. Knowing Gabriel, the contents of the envelope could be his version of an apology. Unfortunately, Gabriel’s version of an apology often comes in the form of an escalation of his original joke.

“What’s it say?”

“Dear Lunkheads,” Cas reads, and rolls his eyes. “I know it was a pain in the ass, but that post paid dividends. One of my customers saw it, and asked me if I knew you guys. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her who you are. But she’s a fan, and when she told me her idea, I kinda-sorta commissioned her to draw this for you. Trust me when I tell you that this is way better than the present I was planning on getting you, and call us even. Merry Christmas.”

“Well, what is it?” Dean asks, trying to peek into the envelope as Cas carefully pulls out the sheet of heavy cardstock inside.

Drawn on the small but sturdy paper is a complex and beautiful mandala in the shape of a honeycomb overlaid with colorful illustrations of flowers, with two honey bees circling the center of the image. When Cas hands the picture to Dean, a note falls from his hands and sails to the floor. He stomps on it before it can slide under the fridge, and bends to pick it up.

“It’s a note from the artist,” he tells Dean. “Each of the flowers is symbolic of love in some form, and honeycomb represents home, health, and a bountiful harvest.”

“Oh,” is all Dean can say as he runs one finger over the drawing, studying the delicate petals of a honeysuckle and the bright bloom of a violet. “Gabe really did a good thing, for once. This is gorgeous.”

Cas smiles up at him, and waves the note around to get Dean's attention. “There’s more. She’s a tattoo artist, apparently, and if we want, she’s offered to tattoo both of us with this design.”

“Well…” Dean says, wondering what Cas thinks of the idea. He’s got nothing against tattoos. He’s already got one, a five-pointed star inside a stylized sunburst he got when his father died, and Sam went out and got the same one the day he turned eighteen. Cas likes the tattoo on Dean’s chest, but he’s never expressed any opinion one way or the other on getting a tattoo himself. But first things first, before they even bother to discuss the possibility, there are certain logistics to consider, and Dean is nothing if not practical about logistics.

“Gabe said she’s a customer of his, so I guess she lives in Chicago?” Dean asks, handing the drawing back to Cas.

“That’s what her note says,” Cas replies, showing him the letterhead with _Tessa’s Tattoos_ written across the top in an elegant script. Cas slips the note and the artwork back into the envelope, and sets it out of the way on the kitchen table. “We should look for a suitable frame while we’re out shopping tomorrow.”

With that, Cas goes back to making his sandwich, and Dean is left to assume the discussion is over. He doesn’t really understand why, but he’s a little disappointed that Cas doesn’t seem interested in taking Tessa up on her offer. Dean himself wouldn’t hesitate to bind himself to Cas, even with such a cliche as matching tattoos. For one thing, the artwork is gorgeous. For another, it would feel like a permanent link to Cas, something no one could ever take away from them. The more he thinks about it, the more he wants it.

Dean falls in line, and they eat quickly. When they’re done, Cas takes Dean by the hand with an impish look, and leads him up to their room. He’d been so busy feeling his own disappointment, that Dean hadn’t really noticed that Cas also seems to have lost some of the excitement he’d shown before dinner. Somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, that eager and elated Castiel switched places with his robotic twin brother.

They stand just inside their bedroom door exchanging sweet little kisses, but the fire from earlier has definitely burned down. Dean knows what shot his own mood to hell, but he was willing to let it go until he senses Cas’s more somber mood. He kisses his way over to Cas’s ear, and quietly asks Cas what’s wrong.

Cas shakes his head and leans back enough to see Dean’s face, to study his reactions. “I think I should be asking you that,” he says, letting his confusion show in his furrowed brow and pained squint.

“I…” Dean hesitates, and then sighs. “I guess I was a little disappointed you didn’t even want to talk about getting the tattoos, is all. I mean, I get it. Not everyone wants to ink themselves up. Or… or get the same tattoo together with someone like me. I get it. It’s okay. I shouldn’t let it get to me.”

Cas slaps his hand over Dean’s mouth, effectively cutting off his self-deprecating mumbling. “Dean Winchester, I will not have you talking about my boyfriend in that fashion. Even if he’s an assbutt who mocked the idea of getting a couples tattoo just a few weeks ago. I thought _you_ wouldn’t want to get matching tattoos, and I didn’t want to pressure you into it.”

As Cas talks, Dean’s eyes widen, until Cas sighs and removes his hand so Dean can speak. “I mocked the idea of getting matching tattoos of a cartoon bee wearing an engagement ring. I’d get Tessa’s drawing tattooed on me in a heartbeat. It’s gorgeous, and perfect, and it would be like having a piece of you with me all the time. Of course I’d get it. I thought you didn’t want it.”

Cas blinks hopefully at Dean, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he catches up with the situation. When he doesn't say anything right away, Dean pushes for an answer.

"So, you really want to do it?” Dean asks, tentative but growing more sure of himself by the second. “You wouldn’t mind being tied to me like that for the rest of our lives?”

“It’s just a tattoo, Dean. We’re not binding our souls together. But I don’t think I’d mind if we did.”

Dean pulls Cas in for a searing kiss, and just when Cas gets with the program and thinks their evening schedule is back on track, Dean darts away, out the door and down the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Be right back! Don’t have any fun without me!”

He comes bounding up the stairs a moment later, carefully pulling Tessa’s note from the envelope before setting the picture down on their dresser and pulling out his phone.

“She might still be in the shop. Tattoo artists keep weird hours,” Dean says by way of explanation.

Cas laughs, and waits while Dean dials her number and sets his phone on speaker.

“Tessa’s Tattoos, this is Tessa,” she answers after a couple of rings.

Dean looks down at the phone, and then shoots a slightly panicked glance at Cas, who smiles and takes over the conversation.

“Tessa? This is Ca… well, you probably know me as Bumblebee.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tessa huffs out a breath. “Oh, wow. Gabriel really did send you my drawing, didn’t he. Oh my god.”

“Yes, he did. And we love it,” Cas tells her.

“Oh my god. He really does know you, doesn’t he?” She asks, still sounding slightly out of breath.

“If you can keep a secret,” Cas says, and then just blurts it out anyway. “He’s my brother.”

“Your brother, oh, wow. Okay.”

“Your art is gorgeous, Tessa. Really,” Dean says, trying to calm her down and get her focused back on topic. It doesn’t help, because she instantly realizes who he is.

“You must be the Fiance Anon. Crap. Then you’re really real. The both of you.”

Cas snorts out a laugh, but confirms it. “Yes, we’re definitely real.”

“And we’d like to schedule an appointment to come in,” Dean adds, again trying to direct the conversation back to the point.

“Yes,” Cas agrees. “Your artwork tells a beautiful story.”

Tessa seems a little overwhelmed by this, but at least it snaps her back to the subject at hand. “Oh! So you deciphered all the flowers and their meanings?”

Dean just snorts. “Yeah, that’s professor Bumblebee here’s best trick.”

Cas raises an eyebrow and shakes his head at Dean, while Tessa begins to sound confused again. “Professor? I’m sorry?”

Cas gives up on trying to hide his identity from Tessa altogether at this point, and just spits out, “I’m a professor of semiotics, or will be next year. I study the meanings of symbols for a living. Trust me when I tell you that it was slightly unsettling to see your drawing for the first time, knowing that you had understood both myself and Dean so well without even knowing our names. You captured us perfectly in one small illustration.”

Tessa’s speechless for a moment, and then bashfully says, “Oh. Um. Thank you. I am a fan of yours, and I’ve been following you since before the whole Fiance Anon thing started over a year ago. But I guess I know at least one of your names now. Dean, is it? Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“Heh,” Dean says. “Yeah, you too.”

“But you both really want me to tattoo you?”

“We’d love that,” Cas replies. “When can you schedule us?”

“Oh, um. Hang on a sec. I can get the transfers ready tonight if you want to come in first thing tomorrow. We open at ten. It’ll probably take a couple of hours for each of you, if you want to come in together. I usually leave Friday open for consults during the day, so I’m more than happy to squeeze you guys in.”

“Oh, um,” Dean says. “We, uh, kinda don’t live locally. It’ll take us a while to get there.”

“About eight hours by car,” Cas adds confidently, having made the trip several times to visit Gabriel since moving to Lawrence.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “So even if we left at the ass crack of dawn, we probably couldn’t make it any earlier than about noon.”

“And you’d need time to chill after that long a drive,” Tessa adds absently. They hear a scratching noise, as if she’s doodling while thinking. “I’d still fit you guys in. It would be an honor. Really.”

“Road trip?” Dean asks, grinning up at Cas.

Cas studies him for a moment, before grinning back. “Road trip.”

They finalize all the details with Tessa, and then Cas calls Gabriel to inform him that he’ll be having house guests for the weekend. They throw a couple of changes of clothes and everything else they’ll need for a weekend away into Dean’s old duffel bag, and spend the rest of the night enthusiastically tackling Dean’s holiday wish list.

 

A week later, on Christmas Eve, Dean and Cas sit quietly in the living room drinking spiked eggnog and watching _Die Hard_ with Sam and Jess. Their tattoos, just below their shoulders on their left arms. are firmly in the OHMYGODITCHYITCHYITCHY phase, and Dean’s already caught himself idly scratching at it before yelping in pain three times in the last hour. At least Cas is in the same boat.

Jess keeps grinning over at them every time they squirm uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry, Cas,” Dean mutters as the movie ends. “It’ll stop itching in a day or two.” He picks up the little jar of soothing ointment Tessa gave them, and rubs some into Cas’s tattoo, admiring the details he’s unable to see on the identical design on his own arm.

Sam shares a knowing look with Jess and then smiles at his brother and Cas. Jess, however, has other plans for them.

“You know you guys never posted an ‘after’ picture of the Christmas tree,” she teases. “As a loyal follower, I think I speak for all of us when I say it’s about time you make your official Christmas Eve post.”

“How about it?” Dean asks, patting Cas on the knee and standing up. “We have to get at least one shot with some of your bees in it.”

“I agree,” Cas replies, following Dean. “My fingers are still sore from making them.”

“Stung by your own bees,” Sam says solemnly, shaking his head.

Jess laughs, but Cas and Dean are already tangling their feet together amid the pile of presents. Cas gets one perfect shot with two little googly eyed bees dangling right above their toes and staring straight into the camera. He adds, “Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, and a wonderful night to everyone else,” and signs it with love from Bumblebee and Fiance Anon.

“Aw,” Jess says when the post loads on her phone a minute later. “You’ll have to post one more tomorrow with all the presents you guys probably got each other from the wish list post.”

Sam chokes on his eggnog, and glares at Dean. “Just don’t tell anyone if you actually got the vibrating butt plug. There’s some things your followers don’t need to know.”

“I didn’t get a beehive butt plug, you bitch.”

“I’m just saying I don’t want to hear about it either way, jerk.”

The brothers share a contented smile, and raise their glasses in a silly little toast across the room, and Cas and Jess exchange a glance and then roll their eyes.

“At the very least,” Jess says, “you should think about posting a picture of your tattoos. Or at least of the original artwork. It’s gorgeous, and I think Tessa deserves some recognition for it.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be hounded by people who would pester her for information about us,” Cas says.

“You could post her art, and just tell everyone it was given to you by a friend who bought it from Tessa,” Sam suggests. “It’s the truth, after all. Even if it came out that Gabriel’s the one who bought it, all the heat would fall on him instead of Tessa. And from what I’ve heard about him, he’d probably get a kick out of fending off anyone pushy enough to ask.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dean agrees. “We’ll tell him it’s a bonus Christmas present.”

 

Sam and Jess end up spending the night in Sam’s old room, so they can be there first thing in the morning for presents and Dean’s traditional Christmas morning cinnamon rolls. Practical or not, they leave the Christmas lights on for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays, y'all. Come find me on tumblr (even though there's no reply button anymore. i swear tumblr took it away just to spite this 'verse. then again, this is my made-up story, so Dean and Cas can still have their reply button, dammit). I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com) (and only a little bit bitter about the reply button shenanigans)
> 
> *and a link to [the tumblr post](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/135909967665/mittensmorgul-may-your-days-bee-merry-and) for this story*


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